


A Special Kind of Pen Pal

by SamanthaStephens



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Although the sex is totally consensual, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Eames, Filming sex without consent, First Time, Infidelity, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming, Sex Tapes, Sex pics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaStephens/pseuds/SamanthaStephens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Eames haven't seen each other in more than two years. And they've only ever even kissed once. But they've been sending each other sex tapes and pervy pictures regularly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came from a prompt for a story where Arthur and Eames make sex tapes and send them to each toher. As I said in the tags, there are some instances where the people in the tapes don't know they are being filmed. These are all original characters and no one sees the tapes but Arthur and Eames themselves. The making of the tapes is not depicted, only the watching of them. Still, this could be upsetting or triggering for some and I wanted to be very clear about it up front. Please let me know if there is anything further I should add.
> 
> This is something I wrote anonymously ages and ages ago on one of the Inception Kink Fests. I never finished it, but I always liked it. So I thought if I reposted here, it might motivate me to actually continue the story.

The moment Arthur realizes that Cobb won't be deterred from bringing Eames in on the project, despite Arthur's very solid and very vocal objections to the idea, a litany of "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" starts up in his mind. His concentration is shot for the rest of the day. Arthur knows he's supposed to wait for that architecture student to come back, but at 2:00 he throws in the towel and heads back to his Parisian loft. 

He's got to make and send Eames a video before the forger shows up in Paris, preferably before Eames's plane departs from Kenya. Unfortunately, the situation has Arthur far too agitated to be assured of a successful pickup tonight, and anyway he's not certain that would be the right message to convey at this stage in the game. It's probably best to keep this as a solo mission.

His brain feels frazzled, to the point where he can hardly think of how to set up a camera for this latest, and possibly final, exhibition. It's been quite a while since he sent Eames anything without another person involved in it one way or another. He feels it would bee too boring to just film himself sprawled out in bed, and he's has already done the thing where he films himself watching Eames' latest video more than once. However, Arthur can't quite think of a new way to make it interesting.

In the end Arthur settles on the dangerous, but honest, approach of letting Eames see just how much his imminent arrival has flustered him. (He never for a moment thinks that Eames will turn down inception.) After all, if this odd flirtation of theirs is going to turn into proper foreplay, or even some crazy form of courtship, then it should probably be acknowledged that seeing each other for the first time in more than two years is a pretty big deal, considering that they've been sending each other pervy pictures and videos for nearly that entire period.

Arthur slides a plastic container from under his bed a takes out the appropriate equipment. He's acquired a startling amount of it over the last two years and change since he and Eames started this habit of theirs. Sometimes, when he's packing some of it into a carry-on bag, or going through his various options in preparation for making a new installment, he can't believe how much time and money he has invested in purchasing still cameras, video cameras, tiny flip cameras and lenses. And all so he can improve his ability to send photos and videos of himself naked, jerking off and having sex with other people to a man he's kissed exactly once (well several times on one occasion).

He sets up a tiny video camera, housed in waterproof plastic, and mounts it on a rack in his shower. Then he takes off his clothes and stands naked in front of it.

"Eames," he says. "I realize this is a little bit different than my usual. But I'm pretty sure you're going to be on your way to Paris by tomorrow morning and I want you to know that while I argued strenuously with Cobb over recruiting you for this project, I can't help but be a little worked up at the idea of seeing you again after so long. I was so anxious, in fact, that while I knew I had to make one more video for you before you arrived, I couldn't be bothered to find someone to help me out. So instead I'm going to take a nice, hot shower and see if I can't relax a bit."

At this Arthur offers a grin that he knows is lopsided and a bit boyish, then steps forward to turn on the water. 

He takes his time soaping up his arms and chest and rinsing them off in a way that puts his body in front of the camera's lens. Then he bends over and soaps his legs, making sure his ass is right up on display. After rinsing for far longer than is technically necessary, he decides to tease a bit and winks at the camera while he pauses to wash his hair. He keeps grinning as he does a quick condition and rinse, imagining Eames swearing at the video for taking up time doing something so dull.

After another minute, he turns the shower's pressure way down, looks right at the camera and says: "The hot water feels so nice, but I'm still all tense and anxious thinking about you coming. Coming here, where I live. I think I'm going to have to try to relax a little harder."

The excitement of making the video, of thinking about Eames watching it before he boards the plane with Cobb, has Arthur more than half hard already. He reaches out for a bottle of water-soluable lube that he normally keeps under the sink and starts stroking his cock slowly, facing the camera, allowing the water to drip down his chest and face. 

Arthur gives himself over to the sensation, not quite forgetting the performance, but not playing it up either. His breath hitches and his eyes fall to half-mast, as his hand works more quickly. When the first moan escapes from his throat unplanned, he turns and braces his free hand against he tiles, giving the camera a nice profile of how hard he is and how his hand is starting to pick up the pace.

He pumps away, thrusting his hips minutely against the air, and tossing his head back to catch the trickle of water still coming out of the showerhead. Just as he's edging closer to the point-of-no-return, Arthur stops. He's breathing heavily, mouth open, eyelashes fluttering with a combination of wetness and desire.

"I know I told you this isn't something I normally do, and that's the truth, but as a special treat for what may very well be my final video for you in this strange game we've been playing, I thought I'd show you something new. This way you won't have time to get used to it, 'cause it doesn't happen often, believe me." Arthur says, trying to keep his voice breathy but still audible over the water pattering against the porcelain tub.

Arthur reaches back for the lube and turns sideways again as he coats the fingers on his right hand and slowly reaches back and slips it between the cheeks of his ass. He won't really be able to show Eames the full picture from this angle, but will be enough for Eames to know what he's doing.

It's been a long time since Arthur has fingered himself, and even longer since he let anyone else do it, but it seems the perfect kind of welcome-to-Paris gesture to make to Eames--the right message to send that he's ready to try something new to take whatever this is between them to another level.

He grits his teeth at the initial mix of pain and pleasure, turning his head so that the camera can see his breath growing labored. After a few minutes of just letting his body adjust to the intrusion, Arthur adds a second finger and rests his head against the tile, so that he can bring his other hand back up to stroke his ridiculously hard cock. 

"Ohhhhh god, baby," he moans between pants. "Do you see what I'm willing to do for you?"

When he once again feels an orgasm building low in his belly, Arthur stops stroking and braces his hand against the far wall, giving the camera a much better shot of the two fingers sliding in and out of his ass. He brings one foot up to rest on the tub's lip, allowing himself to bend over his leg and improve the view even further. 

He knows he won't be able to come without putting his hand back on his cock. But Arthur let's himself get worked up thinking about Eames losing his mind over this final video. When he can't stand it any more, Arthur turns back to face the camera directly, braces his hip against the wall and uses this precarious source of balance to pump his cock as furiously as he can manage under the circumstances. 

He allows himself to say, "Eames" when he comes, trying his damnedest to aim the spurts toward the camera's lens. Then he breathes heavily, eyes closed, for at least a minute before looking up and saying: "See you soon baby" then shutting off the camera.

Before collapsing in bed, Arthur sets his alarm for 4:00 a.m., so that he can upload and send the video to assure that Eames will get it before his flight, but without enough time to make a video of his own in response.


	2. Chapter 2

It's early when Arthur curls up in bed after his shower and videoshoot. But he's still jetlagged from a quick trip stateside after fleeing Japan, followed by a two-day turnaround to Paris. His body could certainly use the rest. But more importantly, his mind desperately needs to be turned off for a bit. Luckily he hasn't gone under at all in two days, so he should be able to drift off unassisted.

He lies on his side, staring at the bluish-white wall he'd spent so much time getting to just the right shade, and thinks back to the day all of this started. Well it's probably more accurate to call it the day that eventually led to the official start of his and Eames' strange, sexy pen pal exchange, but whatever.

It had been their fifth job together. Arthur and Cobb were still working the legal side of the business at that time, but they were willing to look the other way when it came to hiring someone of Eames' talent. 

The forger had come into their lives brash and practically shooting off sparks of attitude and brilliance. Arthur couldn't help noticing that he was built like a Mack truck and brutally hot. 

Arthur had given Eames a private nickname. When thinking about the forger in those days, he referred to him as DSL, because of those fat, luscious lips. It was a dangerous habit, considering how much time they spent in each other's subconsciouses. But Arthur hadn't been able to stop himself from thinking about blowjobs whenever Eames chewed on his pen, pouted at Cobb's strict directives or--God help him--sucked one of those frothy coffee drinks he favored through a straw. 

Once, Arthur had thought about Eames while gazing down at of one of his occasional booty-call boys, one whose lips were wrapped around his cock. But after indulging this fantasy for a few minutes Arthur had hauled the guy--Brian was it?-- up to his feet and forced all thoughts of Eames out of his head by fucking him into the mattress until they were both hoarse from crying out.

Back then, Arthur had always figured that he and Eames would eventually hook up for an undoubtedly scorching one-night stand, possibly followed by a few occasional no-strings-attached repeat performances. Eames had been so flirty with Arthur and so cocky about every aspect of his forging skill set that Arthur just assumed these traits would carry over into the bedroom (or wherever said hookup was destined to take place).

So when Arthur and Eames had been enjoying Cobb's absence one evening and cracked open a few beers while they finished some paperwork, Arthur decided to return fire and flirt back with the forger for once. 

Eames took to the extra attention like a moth to a flame. It had been intoxicating.

When Arthur proposed going out back for a smoke, he'd found himself leaning forward to light Eames's cigarette and then promptly knocking it out of his hand to press Eames against the grotty brick wall and kiss him like their lives depended on it. Eames had moaned into Arthur's mouth and arched against the wall. Arthur had been considering whether he could blow off the remaining paperwork to take Eames back to his apartment and get into his pants without any further delay. 

Unfortunately, this was when things had taken a completely unexpected turn.

"Wait stop," Eames said, pushing Arthur's body away from his own. "I'm sorry, but I can't ... I can't do this."

"Let me guess, you flirt all the time, but it turns out you have a boyfriend?" Arthur replied, scowling at Eames.

"Well, not exactly"

"OK then what, because you obviously want it, so why not come home with me?"

"I'm married"

"Excuse me? You're in some kind of civil union and you go around throwing yourself at me for over a year before thinking to mention it?" 

It wasn't a very nice thing to say, but Arthur had felt toyed with and angry.

"No a marriage," Eames blushed and looked down at his feet. "I have a wife."

"Fuck, Eames."

"Well we're separated, actually, but my lawyer said I musn't, you know, get physical with anyone until the divorce is final."

Arthur had kind of wanted to smack him. 

"So is this kind of thing why you're getting divorced?" Arthur asked, gesturing between them.

"Define this kind of thing."

"Cheating, Eames. Cheating on your wife with men."

"This is the closest I've come to cheating, actually. But I've wanted to, so many times. Hence, the divorce." 

Eames's tone had been like a closed door. Arthur hadn't been able to detect his emotions--anger, regret, sadness, or hell, even excitement--regarding their conversation. 

"I see."

Of course, he hadn't seen at all. What fuck was he supposed to have done with that information? 

Thoughts had raced through his head about whether Eames was sharing this tidbit of his real life--something Arthur had clearly known nothing about--because he felt trapped by the circumstances, or because he expected Arthur to wait for him to get officially split and then--what--become his boyfriend initiate him into the world of gay sex? He couldn't possibly expect such a thing, could he? Arthur had never slept with a virgin, not even when he was one. He certainly had no interest in going down that road with someone who up until that moment he'd considered as nothing more than a sexy colleague and possible hookup. 

Maybe Eames had slept with men before the marriage though.

"How long?" he'd asked.

"Dunno, four, five weeks maybe."

"I meant, how long have you been _married_ "

"Seven years."

Eames had been 29 at the time, so he'd obviously gotten married very young.

Eames certainly could have been with guys before getting hitched at 22, Arthur had thought. But probably not for at least a year beforehand, and likely longer. That meant that if he had fucked guys, it had likely been in high school or early college and Arthur would basically be starting from scratch with him. It seemed like an awfully big investment to make in a potential sexual partner--a boyfriend kind of investment. Arthur wasn't opposed to relationships. Just because it had been a few years since his last one, didn't mean he had no interest in getting seriously involved again someday. But this kind of project--taking a guy under his wing--was not, would never be, Arthur's wheelhouse. It would be a disaster, he'd decided.

He hadn't express any of these thoughts to Eames, because it seemed rude to discuss it so frankly. But the forger had always found people transparent and Arthur figured that Eames had picked up on at least some of what had run through his mind at the time.

"I see," he'd said again and turned on his heel to walk back into the warehouse.

Exactly five weeks later the first pictures had arrived on Arthur's cell phone--a series of still shots of Eames' unmistakable mouth wrapped around someone's cock.

He'd dialed Eames immediately.

"What the fuck? First of all that could be illegal. Why are you sending me pornographic pictures? I don't want this to come back on my head."

"Relax Arthur. The pictures were consensual. I told him they were for an art project and he was happy to comply. I just wanted to let you know I was capable."

"I never said you weren't, Eames."

"You didn't have to, Arthur," Eames said and hung up.


	3. Chapter 3

Even with the early turn in, Arthur feels bleary when his alarm goes off at 4:00 a.m. He reminds himself that since Cobb is away he can crawl back under the covers and sleep in without guilt as soon as he deals with sending this last video. 

Of course, in the space of the few minutes it takes him to upload, watch through and send the previous night's session, Arthur's brain has started working overtime again with thoughts of Eames' imminent arrival. Well, semi-imminent. There's a text from Cobb on his phone saying they'll get into Paris that afternoon and will head straight over to the warehouse, along with their client and a new chemist. 

Arthur's is glad that he and Eames' reunion will take place in such a large, diverse group, which will hopefully also include the architect chick, too. It should allow him to maintain an air of harried professionalism while herding them all through what's been accomplished so far. (The answer: Not fucking much.)

Arthur decides to put himself back to sleep by watching one of Eames' videos, well by jerking off to one of them, to be precise. 

Feeling strangely sentimental, he chooses the first one Eames had ever sent that featured actual sex. Arthur thinks it might be the first time Eames was ever fucked by another guy, but in spite of their frequent and fairly candid phone conversations, he's been afraid to outright ask ask Eames if this is the case. Somehow knowing for sure that Eames wanted to have him witness that moment would be too much for Arthur to bear--mixing up all his fear and guilt and lust and longing regarding the situation between them.

Sometimes he thinks it's better that Eames managed to create this little game they've been playing, and against all odds to gotten Arthur to play along. Because if they'd tried to have a relationship two years ago, it almost certainly would have ended in disaster and maybe in someone being shot. Other times, Arthur feels like the worst kind of asshole for driving Eames off into the arms of who knows how many other men, because he wasn't willing to do the job himself. 

He sets the laptop next to himself on the bed and queues up the right video. (They're all archived and stored behind maximum security on Arthur's personal hard drive, one he never, ever brings on anything related to a job.) 

One of the amazing things about Eames' photos and videos is that he can see why the participants believe him that they're being recorded as part of an art project. Arthur's are purely functional. He does just enough to make sure that what he wants to be heard and seen will be loud and clear. But Eames clearly spends time framing shots. (Arthur sometimes wonders how he gets people to stand or sit or lie in precisely the right place for his lighting schemes to work perfectly.) And sometimes edits the videos, presumably to heighten tension or eliminate less-than-perfect moments. He could probably make a living producing high-end, artsy erotica. Hell, for all Arthur knows, he does.

This particular video is focused entirely on Eames' face, neck and shoulders. The result is an almost uncomfortably intimate feel, as if Eames is inviting Arthur to experience everything that he is, to see the pain and pleasure writ across his face in a way that no lover ever could in this bent-over-the-bed position. Arthur likes to think that although Eames shared this first-time with someone else, the utterly undisguised access to his every reaction is the Eames' way of giving the experience to Arthur, rather than to the random guy who is mostly only visible by the shadow he occasionally casts along Eames's left side.

Even though he can't see Eames' partner, Arthur can tell that when the video starts his tongue is almost certainly up Eames' ass. Eames' eyes are closed and his shoulders are writhing around on the bed. He's panting and moaning into the sheets in a way that Arthur has come to recognize as his reaction to a thorough rimming. For a brief moment he looks directly at the camera, but then his concentration is broken and his eyes roll up into his head as he exhales a loud groan. 

Arthur's breath hitches and he pulls his cock out of his cotton pajama pants and begins stroking it with a spit-slick palm. 

On the screen, Eames has his cheek pressed into the mattress and is whimpering in a rhythmic pattern that most-likely matches the ministrations of his mystery partner's mouth. 

Arthur can definitely tell when fingers are first incorporated into the activity, because Eames, who is slightly elevated on his forearms at the time, winces slightly, takes a slow breath and then visibly relaxes his shoulders into the contact. This is probably Arthur's favorite part of the video, because he can see Eames' mind working, telling himself not to freak out, and his body slowly giving over to the pleasure of the sensation as his partner finds the right way to stroke his insides. After a couple of minutes, Eames gasps and arches back, very obviously reacting to his prostate being discovered.

Arthur forces himself to slow down, so that he can last until the actual fucking.

Arthur is always heartened to see that Eames' partner really takes his time fingering Eames open. Arthur thinks he can tell when a second, and eventually a third are added, but he's not 100 percent certain, because the guy knows to do it at moments of obviously heightened pleasure, so that the flashes of momentary discomfort that play across Eames' face could exist only in Arthur's imagination. 

Somewhere in between fingers two and three, Eames begins panting raggedly and, from the movement of his shoulders, Arthur can tell that he's shoving his ass back over and over again, fucking himself on the guy's fingers. He gives a sustained look right at the camera, lips parted and face flushed a gorgeous shade of pink, clearly almost lost to the outside world, but maintaining just enough presence of mind to include Arthur in the proceedings.

The prep and stretching takes so long that Arthur almost stops stroking himself entirely, trying to make this last as long as he can. His fingers ghost so lightly on his shaft that there is hardly any friction at all, just a reminder of more pleasure to come in a few minutes.

Eventually, Arthur can hear the other guy, whose voice sounds American, ask Eames if he's ready. 

"Yeah, yeah, I can ... let's do it," Eames responds, voice gruff.

The shadow moves and a rough, tanned hand appears and squeezes Eames' shoulder momentarily. Eames shrugs it off, but not fast enough to prevent a surge of jealousy from welling up in Arthur's gut every single time over the casual display of affection or support or just plain old kindness.

Arthur doesn't have to use his imagination to know when the fucking starts, because he can see Eames gritting his teeth and sucking air through them in an effort to breathe past the pain. If Arthur were the one doing the fucking, he would probably hold Eames' hand and let him squeeze back as hard as he needed to until things started to feel right. But he isn't and anyway, Eames' shrug made it pretty clear that he doesn't want to be touched within view of the camera's lens. Arthur can't blame the guy for staying back under the circumstances.

It's almost agonizing to watch, because Eames is staring straight into the camera, features kind of furious-looking as he adjusts to the intrusion. The flush on his face turns from blush pink to red and sweat appears on his temples. Arthur wants so badly to stroke them.

Just when watching is nearly unbearable, something clicks and Eames cocks his head, shoulders pushing back away from his ears. 

"Do that again," he rasps, voice completely broken. "Please, do it again."

Arthur licks his palm and tightens his grip on his own cock. He can't possibly last much longer. He feels so aroused and completely caught up in the video. Through the genius of Eames' camera placement, he is able to simultaneously imagine himself in Eames' place and in his partner's role.

Eames pants and rolls his shoulders in time with the movement of the bed underneath his elbows. After another few minutes he begins moaning properly, still facing the camera with his mouth hanging open and eyes roaming wildly. 

Arthur completely loses control and shoots come all over his own chest, unable to hold back for a moment longer.

Nevertheless he keeps watching as Eames pushes himself up onto his hands and starts rocking back and forth on the bed, whimpering. Eventually, he slides backwards, obviously pulled into a position where the other guy can get his hands on Eames's cock (sadly not on display). It doesn't take much longer for Eames to shout "God yes, oh fuck!" and squeeze his eyes shut with an expression or pure ecstasy writ across his handsome features. 

The video ends with Eames breathing unevenly in recovery, cheek resting on his hands and soft eyes looking back at the camera with lids at half mast.

Arthur is out like a light less than three minutes after the screen cuts to black.


End file.
